It's a sad day when you lose one of the great MCs to ever do it. Malik Isaac Taylor, known to us as Phife Dawg, was an essential part of the golden era of hip hop, lending his voice to classic records alongside Q-Tip in A Tribe Called Quest. The group would release multiple classic albums in the 90s, and although tension divided the band, they'd eventually reunite, most recently on Jimmy Fallon's Tonight Show. Tracks like "Can I Kick It?," "Check The Rhime," "Scenario," Award Tour," and so many others exist as some of the greatest rap records ever made.
As we say goodbye to Phife Dawg, it's important to reflect on the incredible impact he and his band had on our culture. Let's remember the Funky Diabetic through some of his most iconic performances on wax.
"Can I Kick It?"
A Tribe Called Quest are widely regarded as the group that brought jazz into hip hop. "Can I Kick It?" sampled Lou Reed, not an inherent jazz musician, but the upright bass does lean that way, especially when set to the boom-bap drums of the production. Q-Tip kicked it off with a stellar verse before Phife pops in...
"Can I kick it? To my Tribe that flows in layers
Right now, Phife is a poem sayer
At times, I'm a studio conveyor
Mr. Dinkins, would you please be my mayor?
You'll be doing us a really big favor
Boy this track really has a lot of flavor
When it comes to rhythms, Quest is your savior
Follow us for the funky behavior
Make a note on the rhythm we gave ya
Feel free, drop your pants, check your ha-ir
Do you like the garments that we wear?
I instruct you to be the obeyer
A rhythm recipe that you'll savor
Doesn't matter if you're minor or major
Yes, the Tribe of the game we're a player
As you inhale like a breath of fresh air"
"Check The Rhime"
Although disagreements plagued the duo in later years, it's important to remember how ill the chemistry was between Phife and Tip back in the day. After they trade lines in the beginning, each MC has their chance to flex solo. You on point Phife? "All the time Tip!"
"Now here's a funky introduction of how nice I am
Tell your mother, tell your father, send a telegram
I'm like an energizer cause, you see, I last long
My crew is never ever wack because we stand strong
Now if you say my style is wack that's where you're dead wrong
I slayed that body in El Segundo then Push it Along
You'd be a fool to reply that Phife is not the man
Cause you know and I know that you know who I am
A special shot of peace goes out to all my pals, you see
And a middle finger goes for all you punk MC's
Cause I love it when you wack MC's despise me
They get vexed, I roll next, can't none contest me
I'm just a fly MC who's five foot three and very brave
On job remaining, no home training cause I misbehave
I come correct in full effect have all my hoes in check
And before I get the butt the jim must be erect
You see, my aura's positive I don't promote no junk
See, I'm far from a bully and I ain't a punk
Extremity in rhythm, yeah that's what you heard
So just clean out your ears and just check the word"
"Jazz (We've Got)"
A couple classic Q-Tip verses sandwich one of Phife Dawg's finest moments on "Jazz (We've Got)." The group always embraced the jazz, and it ended up being a serious part of their legacy.
Phife raps this one with some patois, referencing Jah and Shabba Ranks as he locks into the pocket.
"Competition dem try fe come side way
But competition they must come straight way
Competition dem try fe come side way
But competition they must come straight way
How's about that, it seems like it's my turn again
All through the years my mic has been my best friend
I know some brothers wonder, can Phife really kick it?
Some even wanna dis me, but why sweat it?
I'm all into my music cos it's how I make papes
Try to make hits, like Kid Capri makes tapes
Me sweat another? I do my own thing
Strictly hardcore tracks, not a new jack swing
I grew up as a Christian so to Jah I give thanks
Collect my banks, listen to Shabba Ranks
I sing, and chat, I do all of that
It's 1991 and I refuse to come wack
I take off my hat to other crews that tend to rock
But the Low End Theory's here, it's time to wreck shop
I got Tip and Shah, so whom shall I fear
Stop look and listen, but please don't stare
So jet to the store, and buy the LP
On Jive/RCA, cassettes and CD's
Produced and arranged by the four-man crew
And oh shit, Skeff Anselm, he gets props too
Make sure you have a system with some fat house speakers
So the new shit can rock, from Bronx to Massapequa
Cos where I come from quality is job one
And everybody up on Linden know we get the job done
So peace to that crew, and peace to this crew
Bring on the tour, we'll see you at a theatre nearest you"
"Scenario"
Alongside the likes of Leaders of the New School (Busta Rhymes, Charlie Brown, and Dinco D), A Tribe Called Quest made a classic cut with "Scenario." Phife sets the pace with a killer sixteen, dropping jewels like "bust a nut inside your eye to show you where I come from" along the way.
"Heyo, Bo knows this and Bo knows that
But Bo don't know jack, cause Bo can't rap
Well what do you know, the Di-Dawg, is first up to bat
No batteries included, and no strings attached
No holds barred, no time for move fakin'
Gots to get the loot so I can bring home the bacon
Brothers front, they say the Tribe can't flow
But we've been known to do the impossible like Broadway Joe, so
Sleep if you want, NyQuil will help you get your Z's, troop
But here's the real scoop
I'm all that and then some, short, dark, and handsome
Bust a nut inside your eye to show you where I come from
I'm vexed, fuming, I've had it up to here
My days of paying dues are over, acknowledge me as in there
Head for the border, go get a taco
Watch me wreck it from the jump street, meaning from the get-go
Sit back relax and let yourself go
Don't sweat what you heard, but act like you know"
"Butter"
Take a trip down memory lane with these extended Phife Dawg verses. This Low End Theory cut proves that the Funky Diabetic got crazy game and is indeed smooth like butter. He boasts about his women-a-plenty before Q-Tip assumes the microphone over a super-jazzy hook. Phife takes double duty on this one, a bit of a rarity on Tribe material, but very nice when it happens.
Verse 1
"1988 Senior Year, Garvey High
Where all the guys were corny but the girls were mad fly
Lounging with the Tipster, cooling with Sha
Scoping out the honeys - they know who they are
I was the b-ball playing, fly rhyme saying
Fly girl getting but never was I sweating
Cause when it came to honeys I would go on a stroll
Until I met my match - her name was Flo
Yeah, I messed around with the one called Flo
All the troopers round the way used to call her a ho
But deep down in my heart I knew that Flo was good to go
Cause I thought it was me like Bell Biv Devoe
But little did I know that she was playing with my mind
The only thing I learned is good girls are hard to find
I feel like Heavy D I need somebody for me
Not someone whose mind is blank and trying to juice me for my banks
Swinging with my main man Lucky behind my back
What type of crap is that - yo, how's about a smack?
Word life, I can't front, thought I was all that
But now it seems, I've met my match
I was a stone cold lover, you couldn't tell me jack
Settling down with one girl, wasn't trying to hear that
I had Tonya, Tamika, Sharon, Karen, Tina, Stacy, Julie, Tracy
Used to love 'em, leave 'em, skeeze 'em, tease 'em
Find 'em, lose 'em - also abuse 'em
My whole attitude was new day, next hon
And believe it or not, they all got done
Well here comes Flo, with the crazy whip appeal
And I'm all true man, like Alexander O'Neal
Is this really love, then again how would I know
After all this time trying to be a Super Ho
She finally played me, but yo I'd find another
Cause I got the crazy game and yo, I'm smooth like butter"
Verse 2
"I remember when girls were goodie two shoes but now they turning freaks
All of a sudden ("We love you Phife")
Ease off ho, my name's Malik
Phife this, Phife that, where you going, where you at
These girls don't know me from jack, yet I feel like the Mack
You didn't want me then, so yo hon, don't want me now
Here, Here - take the towel, wipe off your brow
And take the contact out your eye, you're far from looking fly
You get an E for effort, and T for nice try
Now tell me what's the reason, for dying your hair
Slum village gold still dangling in your ear
You barely have a neck but still sporting a rope
Four-finger ring just so Phife can scope
You looked in the mirror, didn't know what to do
Yesterday your eyes were brown but today they are blue
Your whole appearance is a lie and it could never be true
And if you really liked yourself then you would try and be you
If your hair and eyes were real, I wouldn't have dissed ya
But since it was bought, I had to dismiss ya
But if you can't achieve it, then why not try and weave it
If you can't extend it then you might as well suspend it
If you can't braid it, best thing to do is fade it
I asked who did your hair and you tell me Diane made it
If you were you and just you, talk to you, maybe
But I can't stand, no bionic lady
Trying hard to look fly, but yo, you're looking dumber
If I wanted someone like you I would've swung with Jaime Sommers
You wanna be treated right, see Father MC
Or check Ralph Tresvant, for sensitivity
Cause I am not the one, I got more game than Parker Brothers
Phife Dog is on the mic and I'm smooth like butter"
"Award Tour"
The first notes of "Award Tour" are as recognizable as anything in hip hop. Q-Tip rides first on this one, setting his partner Phife Dawg up to bring 'em home with a phenomenal second verse.
"Back in '89 I simply slid in the place
Buddy, buddy, buddy all up in your face
A lot of kids was busting rhymes but they had no taste
Some said Quest was wack, but now is that the case?
I have a quest to have a mic in my hand
Without that, it's like Kryptonite and Superman
So Shaheed come in with the sugar cuts
Phife Dawg's my name, but on stage, call me Dynomutt
When was the last time you heard the Phife sloppy
Lyrics anonymous, you'll never hear me copy
Top notch baby, never coming less
Sky's the limit, you gots to believe up in Quest
Sit back, relax, get up out the path
If not that, here's a dancefloor, come move that ass
Non-believers, you can check the stats
I roll with Shaheed and the brother Abstract
Niggas know the time when Quest is in the jam
I never let a statue tell me how nice I am
Coming with more hits than the Braves and the Yankees
Living mad phat like an oversized mampi
The wackest crews try to diss, it makes me laugh
When my track record's longer than a DC-20 aircraft
So, next time that you think you want somethin here
Make something def or take that garbage to St. Elsewhere"
"8 Million Stories"
You ever have one of those days where everything is just going wrong? So did Phife. He turned it into a stellar track, doubling down on the verses to create one of the essential Phife Dawg recordings.
Verse 1
"Went to Carvel to get a milk shake
This honey ripped me off for all my loot cakes
The car oh yeah there's money in my jacket
Somebody broke into my ride and cold macked it
Yo Tip I tell you man the devil's tryin it
But I'm goin to stay strong cause I ain't buyin it
Tonight I'm taking Sherry out, I don't have jack to wear
You know I gots to look dipped in the fresh new gear
Cool I found something so I ironed it
I then got caught up on the phone, oh shit, I'm frying it
Will someone tell me what did I do to deserve this?
I think I'll, pull out my suit for Sunday service
My little brother wants Barney, cool, I'm gettin it
Took him down to Kay-Bee, they ain't sellin it
Here we go with the crying, yo he's throwing fits
My blood pressure's blowing up, I can't take the shit
Finally got what he wanted, now he's good to go
Again the ride was smashed, where's my radio?
One time, the car was in the shop I had to borrow see...
They had no mercy on the car, Lyor will kill me
Where the hell can Nicki be? I'm gonna smack her up
I got the tickets for the Knicks and she cold stood me up
I need to hit a honey off, Jarobi pass the phone
Pulled out my book of hoes, oh yo, Sheila's home
Steady smiling like a mother yo I'm read' to bone
Went down on hon, she's in the red zone
Stressed out more than anyone could ever be
Forever tryin to clear the samples for my new LP
Everybody knows I go to Georgia often
Got on the flight and I ended up in Boston
With all these trials and tribulations, yo, I've been affected
And to top it off, Starks got ejected"
Verse 2
"Just last week my girl was stressin me
Now her best friend be undressing me
Well I was loving her by the moon ray
Now I'm tricking on her like Kinte' (c'mon)
Bought a bag of izm from the smoke shop
Walking towards the car, here come the damn cops
Now I'm station bound for the Thai sticks
I bought it for my man, I don't believe this shit
Coach sat me down from the ball team
Cause I was breaking niggas on the inseams
Some niggas cross town was trying to stick me
All I had was shorts, a dollar fifty
Picked up this girl in the hooptie
Just because I rhyme she tried to soup me
Pay for this, pay for that, loot for nails and hair
Who the hell you think I am, Mr. Belvedere?
Go and get a bloody job, then can we look cute
Even if you give me boots, you'll never see my loot
She wasn't even all of that just another hooker
So I turned that ass away, quick like Chuckii Booker
Sometimes you got put the hoes in their friggin' place
Just move from in front me with your botty face!"
"Electric Relaxation"
It's too nice when Tip and Phife trade off short verses like this, setting each other up like Pippen and Jordan in their prime. Tip kicks a little something before giving Phife the assist, "Ayo my man Phife Diggy, he got something to say..."
"I like 'em brown, yellow, Puerto Rican or Haitian
Name is Phife Dawg from the Zulu Nation
Told you in the jam that we can get down
Now let's knock the boots like the group H-Town
You got BBD all on your bedroom wall
But I'm above the rim and this is how I ball
A gritty little something on the New York street
This is how I represent over this here beat
Talking 'bout you
(Yo, I took you out
But sex was on my mind for the whole damn route
My mind was in a frenzy and a horny state
But I couldn't drop dimes cause you couldn't relate"
Later on he kicks this one, revisiting the Patois we heard in "Jazz (We've Got)"...
"Original rude boy, never am I coy
You can be a shorty in my ill convoy
Not to come across as a thug or a hood
But hon, you got the goods, like Madelyne Woods
By the way, my name's Malik
The Five-Foot Freak
Let's say we get together by the end of the week
She simply said, "No", labelled me a ho
I said, "How you figure?" "My friends told me so"
I hate when silly groupies wanna run they yap
Word to God, hon, I don't get down like that"
And finally he wrecks it with these four:
"If my mom don't approve, then I'll just elope
Let me save the little man from inside the boat
Let me hit it from the back, girl I won't catch a hernia
Bust off on your couch, now you got Seaman's Furniture"
"Hot Sex"
The self-proclaimed 'five-foot freak' gets dirty on "Hot Sex." He kicks it off over this funky-as-hell beat, dropping plenty of punchlines over the course of his verse.
"Ayo who wanna pull on Phifer long time no hear from
Suckers walkin' around talking about they could get some
But that pop is non cypher, no can do
And if you think I'm a dope, then ask the other crew
And I proceed to let you know, exactly how to flow
I'm not Lawn Doctor so just step off with the ho
Oops my mistake I didn't know you went with her
Should I run down the line of the all the kids that done hit her
Don't be bitter, I hear that honey resembles a critter
I heard she likes the two on one like my man John Ritter
But back to the subject you can't catch wreck
You must get respect, to earn respect
Suckers think they could herb me cuz know I where specks
You're full of jokes, but you your name ain't flex
I got the riches, the bitches, I'm large like a Huxtable
You think you're all that but you're girl's quite doable
Yeah, I'm tellin' you G, to back up off me
I'm not a mad cohort, but I'm not Mr. Softee
Rappin' is an art, coming straight from the heart
So forget the chart because the action can start"
"Oh My God"
If you want a glimpse of early hip hop culture, peep the video for "Oh My God." Over something so jazzy that only Tribe could pull it off, Tip and Phife each take a verse before Busta Rhymes uses his signature growl to let you know the name of the song.
"1 for the treble, 2 for the bass
You know the style Tip, it's time to flip this
I like my beats hard like two day old shit
Steady eating booty MCs like cheese grits
My man Al B. Sure, he's in effect mode
Used to have a crush on Dawn from En Vogue
It's not like honey dip would wanna get with me
But just in case I own more condoms than T.L.C
Now the formula is this: me, Tip, and Ali
For those who can't count it goes 1-2-3
The anti batty boy, big up is who I be
Brothers find this hard to do but never me
Some brothers try to diss but Malik, you see 'em bitching
Me no care about them dibby MC, my shit is hitting
Trini gladiator, anti-hesitater
Shaheed push the fader from here to Grenada
Mr Energetic, who me sound pathetic?
When's the last time you heard a funky diabetic?"